


a wise man's heart is never cheerful

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1811125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She is a spákona, a vǫlva." Thor cautioned them, his arms crossed across his chest, as though protecting himself from the words. He noted their blank faces and frowned slightly. "What do you call them?" He asked.</p><p>Natasha ran through words in her head, languages rolling across her tongue, sorting, shifting. A pause. She could feel Fury beside her, waiting, see Steve shifting on the balls of his feet. "Seers." She decided on, raising her head to meet Thor's eyes.</p><p>Thor grunted approval of the word and nodded. "She is magic, and she is powerful. You must be careful when she speaks. If you listen, know that you cannot unhear, my friends. Many a man has brought about a prophecy in trying to stop it, and more than many men have sealed their own dooms just by listening."</p>
            </blockquote>





	a wise man's heart is never cheerful

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this is. I have been reading too much about ancient prophets recently, I suppose. So I put one sort of into the Marvel Avenger's universe to see what would happen and this is what I wrote.

"She is a _spákona_ , a v _ǫlva._ " Thor cautioned them, his arms crossed across his chest, as though protecting himself from the words. He noted their blank faces and frowned slightly. "What do you call them?" He asked.

Natasha ran through words in her head, languages rolling across her tongue, sorting, shifting. A pause. She could feel Fury beside her, waiting, see Steve shifting on the balls of his feet. "Seers." She decided on, raising her head to meet Thor's eyes.

Thor grunted approval of the word and nodded. "She is magic, and she is powerful. You must be careful when she speaks. If you listen, know that you cannot unhear, my friends. Many a man has brought about a prophecy in trying to stop it, and more than many men have sealed their own dooms just by listening."

"Then she can't really see the future. The suggestion makes people do what she says, because they are trying to make sure it doesn't happen." Barton was behind Natasha, off to the side. A step behind, to cover them, in the event of emergency. Not that they were in any danger, but they stood in battle formation, just in case. Always, just in case.

 _Reasonable_ , Natasha thought.

"No." Thor's voice left no room for argument. "A _spákona_ cannot be wrong. Even my father has consulted with them, to find out the paths of the Gods. And she does not just speak the truth." Thor paused, locked eyes with Fury. "A _spákona_ is dangerous." Thor's voice was dangerous. He looked between them, at Barton; at Steve; at Natasha, on whom his eyes rested. "She is dangerous."

Fury nodded once, briskly, and gestured toward the door. Thor made his way across the room, but Fury told them to wait with a half-hand gesture that they understood without any verbal backing. Steve gave a half-nod and a smile to Thor as he passed.

The door slid shut with a hiss, an exhale.

Barton scoffed under his breath, and Natasha had to pinch her lips to keep from smiling. If Thor said a _spákona_ was dangerous, than she was, and Barton knew that too. But she knew that he, like her, tired of monsters and myths and ancient words.

"Bet I could kick her ass." Natasha turned to look at them.

Steve raised his eyebrows at her, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze solid."We don't want," he frowned slightly at her words, "that."  He finished.

Barton just grinned, leaning against the wall, his arms lightly crossed against his chest, his ankles crossed in a gesture of casual off-guardedness.

As if any of them would ever be caught off-guard.

 

~~~

 

When they went to bring the _spákona_ in, she came willingly, which startled them all. They thought that she would fight, but she didn't. She was simply waiting for them, sitting in a giant armchair in her apartment, wearing a cashmere sweater the color of the ocean after a storm.

She was young, which surprised Natasha. Younger than Natasha. She looked around the age where people still sometimes called you kid, much to your chagrin. Her hair was the color of dark chocolate, long and intricately braided, streaked with grey and strands of tiny pearls. The grey looked natural. The pearls looked real.

"My name is Alfrún." The girl said, unwinding her legs and standing up to face them, sweater long over her black leggings. "You would speak with me?"

Her hands were outstretched, palms up as though in supplication. Around her neck, a single larger pearl was caught in a silver setting shaped like a drop spindle. She was small, smaller than Natasha.

Almost without realizing it, Barton seemed to slip out of his fighting stance.  Natasha caught this, out of the corner of her eye. The slight relaxing of his shoulders, the unclenching of his fist. Her mind hissed that it was a betrayal and she nearly had to shake it to clear the thought, so strong did it ring. It momentarily disoriented her, the voice in her head, the girl's outstretched hands. It was ominous.

Natasha felt she was standing on a cliff looking down into ocean spray and, if she didn't back up, she was going to fall. She felt a threat. She felt the full force of Thor's words. Something inside her said this girl was filled with venom instead of blood. Alfrún flexed the fingers on her outstretched hands, met Natasha's eyes like lightning.

 _Empty hands do not preclude danger,_ Natasha thought.

"We would like to speak with you, yes." Barton said, when Natasha did not speak. "Will you come with us?"

"Yes." Alfrún said.

"Okay." Barton said.

They looked at one another.

"Now." Barton added.

"Yes." Alfrún said.

There was a silence that sucked at the edges of Natasha's body and threatened to pull her apart.

Alfrún reached for a walking staff that had been leaning against her chair, rounded at the top, a larger reflection of her necklace, and smiled at them. Underneath the caramel of her skin she seemed waxy, as though she was recovering from an illness.

 

~~~

 

They sat in a nameless conference room, Natasha and Alfrún. This was not quite an interrogation, but also not quite not an interrogation.  That truth sat between them on the table, goading them into a conversation they did not want to have. It was going poorly.

"Would you like to talk to someone else?" Natasha said, after a moment. Alfrún was tracing out a shape on the table. Natasha couldn't see what it was.

"I have seen you." Alfrún answered with a non-answer, looking up and holding Natasha's eyes with her own. Alfrún was not young at all, Natasha saw now; there were worlds in her eyes. It was like looking directly into the sun. Natasha did not flinch. Alfrún dropped her eyes.

"Have you?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow. _Fa_ _ntastic,_ her mind added, conjuring up Thor's stern face.  _  
_

"You fought alongside the son of Odin, in New York. You fought against Loki." Alfrún said. There was reproach in the words. The movement of Alfrún's hand distressed Natasha for some reason, so she stopped watching, looked up at the ceiling.  She realized that she was touching the hilt of her knife and cleared her throat, shifted in her chair.  She leaned forward and clasped her hands on top of the table.

"Yes." Natasha answered. It looked like runes from this angle, but she still couldn't tell what Alfrún was writing. "Loki is a monster." Natasha said, letting the word roll off her tongue easily. The statement provoked no response. "He killed hundreds of people."

"And how many have you killed?" Alfrún's hand stopped moving. She had only brought up Loki to ask this question, Natasha realized too late.

She would have said that it was different, but she knew that would be a lie. The difference was semantic; it only depended what side of the fence you were standing on. She perched on top of it.

"Fair enough." She kept her voice level.

"You would not justify your killing?" Alfrún asked, bemusement in her voice. The AC in the corner of the room clicked on, buzzing to life, bringing a sweet artificial breeze. The fluorescent lights made Alfrún's skin burn like copper.

"Would you?" Natasha maintained her neutral voice.

"No." Alfrún mused. "But those who think they can do only good always try to. What is it they say," she paused, her voice trailed off.

"SHIELD works to help people." Natasha said, realizing now how such a simple statement made her sound. She believed it though. Sometimes you had to lie and sometimes you had to cheat, but SHIELD was on the side of good when you got down to where it mattered. She could feel it in the marrow of her bones.

"Oh yes, there it is." Alfrún's voice was sweet as an overripe fig, "We judge others by their actions and ourselves by our intentions."

"They want to work with you. They want you to work with us." Natasha chose to ignore the bait. Felt the need to clarify. "They want you to help them help people."

"I have no desire to do such a thing." Alfrún responded. "I will remain, respectfully, outside this battle."

"Then why did you come with us?" Natasha asked, the seconds ticked by, each one growing longer.  "Why are you here?" Alfrún just looked at her, silent. "Why?" Natasha pressed.

They were outside, she knew, listening in. Fury and Barton and Steve. She could hear them, like static in the air, hissing the question along with her. It pressed down on both of them.

Alfrún tapped the runes she had drawn on the table with her walking stick.

There was a crack like thunder and everything in the room moved. Natasha's chair slid, throwing her against the back of it hard enough to knock the air out of her; the table jerked sharply, scattering coffee on the floor; the glass of the mirrored windows shattered into a spiderweb of cracks; the door shook violently, handle compacting on itself; the security cameras wrenched themselves from their wiring, sending sparks into the air.

Alarms rang, the sprinklers clicked on, and agents flooded the room, Fury's voice loud as he crossed to where Alfrún sat. Natasha could barely even make out the words, all the sound and noise so sudden compared to the quiet of before. Alfrún's eyes were hooded, her head tilted down, and her mouth did not move with the words that Natasha heard whispered into her ear, though she could feel Alfrún's breath on her skin despite the distance. _I came here to speak with you_ , the whisper said.

Alfrún was wrenched out of her chair and to her feet, the gun wielding men stopped only by Steve's ever present placating hands and Natasha's voice as she heard herself say i _t's fine, it's fine_.

Alfrún's hands, palms upturned in innocence, had dropped her walking stick. She stood there; her braid coming undone, bangs plastered to her forehead in the artificial rain, her mouth curved in the smile of a child who knows a secret.

"'Tash, you okay?" Barton asked, his voice soft, his hand barely on her shoulder, light as the water from the spinklers.

"Yeah." She said.  Alfrún smiled, a smile that could barely be called a smile.  "It's fine." Natasha said again. "It's fine."

 

~~~

 

They were leaving by elevator, the two of them alone. Natasha had come to the girl's defense. SHIELD had agreed she was not suitable for the organization. Alfrún agreed that she wanted nothing to do with them. Steve and Barton were united in distrust. This make-shift meeting space was to be abandoned by both parties. Everyone had folded. There would not be a fight.   _For now_ , hung in the air between them all.

Alfrún's hair was still wet, braid dripping onto the floor, the sound as rhythmic as a heartbeat.

The sun hurt Natasha's eyes when they exited the building. It was too bright out. There was not a cloud in the sky.

"Come." Alfrún turned toward her, hands outstretched, palms up. "Let me kiss your cheek."

Natasha knew why she took a step toward the girl. It was not for the kiss, placed lightly at the corner of her mouth.

 _You must be careful when she speaks,_ Thor had said, but what he had meant was: do not let her speak. Do not let her tell you what she knows, even if you think you want to know.

Alfrún had looked at her in the conference room, right as her arms had been grabbed and she had been pulled from her chair. _I see you_.

"I saw a man made of metal throw a red hourglass down a flight of stairs, and it broke spilling sand that looked like blood." Natasha felt Alfrún's nails pressing into her skin through her t-shirt. "I saw an archer shoot out his own heart, though the arrow did not pierce his skin. I saw an eagle tumble down from the sky with broken wings. I saw a weeping willow, fallen birds around it some made of metal and some made of flesh. I saw you with your flaming hair beneath it, crying ash instead of tears, wrapped in a cloth that had been dyed red with blood."

The sun's rays were too strong; Natasha felt dizzy, standing in the courtyard, this girl clinging to her arms like she was a lifeboat.

"I'm going to die." Natasha guessed, pushing aside the riddles, pushing the girl away from her, struggling to find her balance. Alfrún's fingers scraped like barnacles. "That's hardly news."

"We are all going to die." Alfrún scoffed. "You do not need me to tell you that." She looked at Natasha with dark eyes and Natasha saw again that she was not young, not at all. Her eyes were pooling slate, the ocean after a storm, and she was old beyond years. "No, this is much worse than that." Alfrún's smile crawled up her face to her eyes, "I saw you lose."

"Lose what?" Natasha asked, holding her ground against the smile. Alfrún did not answer. Natasha's eyes watered as she looked at Alfrún. Lose a fight, lose a war, lose her life. The sun was too bright. It occurred to her that she had something else to lose, for the first time in her life. _I saw a weeping willow, fallen birds around it some made of metal and some made of flesh_. Friends.   _As_ _h instead of tears._ It was hot.

Natasha sat down in the courtyard, crossing her legs and closing her eyes.

"Hey!" She heard the voice from across the courtyard, but didn't stand up. She felt so tired. There was a pounding of feet and hands. "Barton, get over here!" Steve then, the hands on her arms, in her hair. "Hey." _Eagle with broken wings_. She pushed him away and stood up on her own two feet, waving off their concern. The world was still spinning, but she learned long ago how to not show that on her face.

"You will lose more things than there are names for." The words were whispered directly in her ear, and she could feel the breath on her skin, frozen like a December wind. She didn't turn, Alfrún was gone. She had left behind these words. Natasha felt like she had a fever. She would not lose them. A truth that hurt to admit; she did not want to lose them. _You will lose more things than there are names for._

Thor had told her not to listen.


End file.
